Grasping at the Short Straw
by Flaignhan
Summary: Good people do not compromise. Not when it matters.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **This is a two parter. Was originally going to be a one-shot but somehow ended up being 10,000 words. Psssh. Anyway, hope you like it. Let me know what you think. I'll post the second bit soon(ish).

* * *

**Grasping at the Short Straw**

**by Flaignhan**

* * *

"He will not allow it," Thor says with a heavy sigh. "And my mother fears that the magic involved is beyond her skills. It is _dark_ magic."

"Does that make a difference?" Natasha asks, already knowing the answer.

"It requires a different power source," Thor explains. "My mother would not be able to do it even if she wanted to."

"But Loki _could_, right?" Natasha continues. "He could do it?"

"Father will not let him out of his cell, and he will not permit humans in Asgard. I don't know what else to say, Natasha, I wish I could help but…I will ask my mother to do some reading, to see if there is any good magic that could counter the effects."

"But if Loki learned everything from your mom then how can he - "

"His time with Thanos expanded his skills," Thor tells her, his hands resting on his hips, his gaze focused on the ground. When he looks up, his eyes are brighter than usual. "It changed everything."

Natasha sits down heavily on the bench and rests her head in her hands. This had been her last hope - grasping at the short straw that was Loki's assistance. She had argued and argued with Fury, certain that with the right motivation, Loki would be able to fix things, that it would be safe if Thor supervised, that it was their one shot at getting things back to how they should be. When he had finally relented, she had been overcome with relief, never expecting that she would be glad to see Loki again. She had been sure that everything was going to be okay.

"Have you tried recalibrating him?" Thor asks quietly, sitting down next to her on the bench, his armour clinking against the wood. His outfit draws a few stares from passersby, but with a glare from Natasha they avert their gazes and carry on with their own business.

"Yeah," she says, defeat obvious in her tone. "It just made him angry."

"Would you like me to try? Perhaps Mjolnir can - "

"I used a crowbar," Natasha tells him. "On the third attempt. No dice."

Thor lets out a long, low whistle, and rests his hands on his knees. "Poor Agent Barton."

"Poor Agent Barton my _ass_," she says impatiently. "He tried to bite my ear off last time I was in his holding cell."

"I'm sure it wasn't personal," Thor replies, then, after a moment, adds: "Although I suppose if you used a crowbar…"

Natasha says nothing, and stares out across the lake, her arms folded across her stomach, jaw set as she tries to figure out a way to fix this mess. She can't leave Clint in that cell, but nor can she release him. She wishes things could be simpler, that battles revolved around fire power and wealth, not this hokum bullshit that they have no idea how to handle. If he'd been shot, she could handle that, and so could he, but to have his mind taken from him _again_…it's just not fair.

"I will speak with Loki," Thor says at last. "To see if he recognises the symptoms, and if there is a cure you can administer to Agent Barton without his presence."

"I thought you _weren't_ speaking to Loki?" Natasha asks, quirking her eyebrow and turning to look at Thor. He looks down at his hands, and it is a moment before he responds.

"I haven't been," he says slowly. "But…I will. For this."

"Thank you," Natasha says softly, a small spark of hope reigniting in her chest. She doesn't have much faith that they'll be able to do anything, but she appreciates Thor's efforts all the same. She can't imagine how much pride Thor will have to swallow in order for him to set foot in the dungeons and ask Loki for help, though she wouldn't blame him if he refused to.

"I should return to Asgard," he adds. "I will speak to Loki as soon as I can."

"Thanks," Natasha says, and with that, Thor stands, walks to a clear patch of grass, and looks towards the sky. She sees his lips move, but doesn't hear the words that come from them, and moments later, she is blinded by the bright blast of the bifrost, ripping Thor from the face of the earth and carrying him across the universe. With a sigh she stands and heads back towards HQ, knowing that her conversation with Fury is not going to be a happy one.

* * *

"He says he'd have to see him," Thor says, dropping Mjolnir onto Natasha's desk with a loud _thunk_. "He says the mind is too complex to be remedied at a distance. He would need a thorough examination."

"Well can we sneak Barton in?" Natasha asks.

Thor shakes his head. "My father will not…he's stubborn, at best. He cares not for one mortal's life, even if I consider him a friend."

Natasha grits her teeth together and tries to refrain from telling Thor that she thinks Odin's an asshole. That doesn't leave her with very much to say at all, and she knows that Thor will have bargained as hard as he possibly could with his father in order to help them. Now there's nothing they can do but let the science teams at Clint, but she doesn't think she could bear to let him become a guinea pig, not when she knows what it's like to be in his position. She knows that underneath all of it, he's fighting to get out, to take back control of his own mind, but he just can't break through the barrier containing him.

She comes to a decision, and forces a smile onto her lips. "Thanks for trying," she says. "We'll just have to figure something else out."

"If there's anything else I can do - " Thor adds, but Natasha shakes her head.

"You've done more than enough. And I doubt we want to piss your dad off. He sounds like he could hold a grudge."

"You have the measure of him already," Thor says with a brief smile. "Mother has been consulting the library though, I shall ask mother if she has any suggestions at all."

"Thanks," Natasha says, and with that, Thor takes Mjolnir into his grasp once more, and departs, leaving Natasha considering her options, the reports on her desk completely ignored. Her favourite idea is not the brightest idea she's ever had, but she's running out of time and options. She won't let them open Clint up like they did to Coulson, won't let them start messing around with his head too. He's had enough of that for a lifetime.

It's not until the following morning that she decides to put her plan into action. She wakes at the crack of dawn and pulls on her kevlar suit, loading her guns and slipping them into her holsters, ensuring her favourite knives are razor sharp and secured to her thigh, and that she has a good stock of taser disks at the ready. She has a feeling she might need them.

She leaves her apartment block through the rear exit, hoping that the small concrete yard out the back will provide enough space for her chosen method of transportation. If, the transportation obliges, that is.

"So," she says, frowning up at the sky as she smooths down the sleeves of her jumpsuit. "Heimdall, right? I need to speak to Thor, could you maybe…beam me up?" She cringes at her choice of words, and as she waits, her heart thuds in her chest, beating against the inside of her ribcage. Just when she thinks she's being ignored, and that she shouldn't have bothered getting dressed, the clouds above her shift, and without warning, she is blinded by light. Her feet lift up off the ground and she speeds along, unable to move her body, not daring to breathe.

She lands hard on all fours, and is initially disoriented, but gathers her wits quickly and looks around, taking in her surroundings.

"Welcome to Asgard."

Natasha looks up at the tall, muscled man, his bright amber eyes contrasting with his dark skin. Most of his face is concealed by an ornate golden helmet, but she can detect the faintest hint of a smile. She also takes the time to note the large sword held firmly in his grip, its point resting on the floor, but no less intimidating for that fact.

"Thanks," Natasha says, offering him an uncertain smile as she gets to her feet. She looks out of the golden dome, and in the distance she can see the palace. It looks like something out of a movie, and while her eyes are in perfect working order, she's still not quite sure she believes what she's seeing. As hoped, however, it's still early. The sun hasn't risen yet and Asgard looks quiet.

"Thor won't be rising for another few hours," Heimdall continues. "Would you like me to send someone to fetch him, or would you rather go yourself?"

"I'll go myself, thank you," Natasha says. "No point in bothering anybody…"

Heimdall descends the steps quickly, and Natasha freezes on the spot, uncertain as to whether he's about to use that sword or not. "Enter through the main doors, take the first left, keep walking until you reach the statue of Bor, then turn right, take the second left, and behind the first door on the right a set of stairs will lead you to that which you seek."

Natasha blinks, committing the information to memory. "Thanks," she says, and Heimdall steps aside, gesturing towards the open doors that lead out onto the icy, colour flecked bridge that paves the way towards the palace. When she steps onto the ice, she braces herself, expecting it to be slippery, but it's fairly similar to walking on marble, though her paranoia that she will fall and slip right off the edge, into the depths of space doesn't quite manage to settle.

The walk to the other side seems like it takes forever, and she can't help but feel incredibly exposed, all alone on this bridge. She's not sure what she's expecting, when all of Asgard is, apparently asleep, but experience has taught her that complacency is the first step towards failure. She can't fail today, however. The consequences would be unthinkable.

She reaches the main doors of the palace, but her path is blocked by two uniformed guards with large spears. She eyes the sharp golden points, then turns to the nearest guard and smiles.

"I'm here to see Thor," she tells him. "I'm a friend of his. I'm from out of town."

"You'll have to wait until after sunrise," the guard tells her. "The Prince will see no one before he has breakfasted."

"But this is _important_," Natasha tells him. "And he's expecting me."

The guard looks across to his partner, who shrugs.

"Would you like to see my identification?" Natasha asks, and as soon as the first guard nods, she flicks two taser disks onto the floor. They skitter over the ground, stopping at each guard's feet, and, after a half second of anticipation, the electricity crackles through the air, the guards seizing up and falling to the floor with a crash, their spears landing heavily next to them.

"Well I think that checks out just fine," Natasha says casually. "Thank you for your assistance." She pushes open one of the heavy doors and slips inside, closing it quietly behind her. She looks around, but the corridor is empty, and so she turns left, walking quickly and quietly, keeping her eyes peeled for the statue that Heimdall mentioned. She walks for a good five minutes, and even starts to wonder if she's missed it and ought to turn back, but then she passes through an archway and there, in an alcove on the right, is a towering statue of a helmeted warrior, stretching right up to the vaulted ceiling. Carved into the plinth beneath his feet is the word _Bor_, and Natasha nods, deciding that this is definitely her turning point. She slips through the door at the statue's side and passes one corridor on the left before turning down the second.

She freezes on the spot, hearing the clanking of armour in the distance, but before she can backtrack her steps, another gold clad guard appears at the end of the corridor. She straightens up, squaring her shoulders, and paints on her most winning smile.

"What are you doing here?" the guard demands, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, ready to draw it from its sheath at a moment's notice.

Natasha's smile falters.

"Who are you?"

"I am friend of _Thor's_," Natasha tells him indignantly. "I'm a member of the Midgardian royal family and I'm here on a diplomatic mission at his invitation. I would _appreciate it_ if you removed your hand from your _weapon_."

The guard frowns, but moves his hand from his sword, tucking his thumb into his belt instead. "I have heard of no such mission," he says suspiciously.

"Oh, does the prince share all the details of his social calendar with you? I had no idea you were so _close_."

The guard bristles, and Natasha can't quite tell if she's making the situation worse for herself or not. Regardless, she's chosen to go with the offensive, and the age old _don't you know who I am?_ that works so beautifully well back on Earth.

"The Prince is still asleep. _Everybody's_ still asleep."

"Well _I'm not_, and neither are _you_," Natasha retorts. "I didn't realise waking up early was a crime."

"You're _dressed_ strangely," the guard adds, frowning at Natasha's jumpsuit, his lips pursed as he surveys her.

Natasha drops her jaw. "How _dare you_," she responds, her tone scandalised. "This is the _finest_ material on Midgard," she tells him, brushing her fingers against the kevlar. "And this outfit was made especially for me by one of the world's _greatest_ tailors. I'll be speaking to Thor about your attitude."

The guard opens and closes his mouth several times, and holds his hands up defensively. "I meant no disrespect, my lady," he says, his lips twisting into a very forced smile. "It's just that I've never met a Midgardian before and I expected something quite different."

"I am no mere Midgardian," Natasha tells him coldly. "I am the future _queen _of Midgard. You will _never_ meet anybody like me, Midgardian or otherwise."

"Forgive me," the guard continues, with a sycophantic bow of deference. "I am obviously unfamiliar with Midgardian etiquette."

Natasha holds him with a steely gaze, and he looks down at the floor, shuffling his feet.

"It's a very…pleasing look," the guard continues, gesturing awkwardly to her outfit. Natasha says nothing, but arches one eyebrow, which only results in more nervous fidgeting from the guard.

"Return to your post, soldier, and we shall say no more about this," she says at last, her voice firm, her stance strong.

"Yes, my lady," the guard says, nodding hurriedly. "Of course, my lady. Thank you." He sidles past her, and disappears into the corridor beyond, his footsteps fading into the distance. Natasha moves quickly, uncertain as to whether she's put him in his place or if he's going to get some back up. With any luck, the threat of Thor will be enough to keep him quiet for a little while, providing he doesn't stumble across the two electrocuted guards at the palace entrance.

She opens the door on the right, and, as promised, there is a set of stairs leading her down into a stone chamber. She moves quietly, leaning low to get a good view of the dungeons. There are two guards inside, patrolling up and down the central stretch of the room, with cells on either side. They're deep in conversation about something, though from this distance, Natasha can't hear what it is. She flicks the switches on her gloves, the LEDs glowing blue, and she waits until the guards reach the nearest cell, then watches as they turn on their heel and start pacing away from her again.

Moving quickly, she skips silently down the last few steps and crosses the dungeon in half a dozen strides before launching herself onto the shoulders of the nearest guard, her hands wriggling through the gaps in his armour to find the soft flesh of his neck. He shudders as she makes contact, the charge surging through him, and he drops his shield and sword with a clatter, before falling to his knees and slumping forward. The other guard raises his shield, sword ready to strike, but his expression betrays him. He's terrified, and no wonder - he's probably only ever seen Thor use electricity like that. Smirking to herself, she wonders briefly if she could get away with convincing him she's a goddess. She's already checked off crown princess this morning, so why not?

"Do as I say, and I promise not to hurt you," she says calmly. The guard shakes his head, readjusting his grip on his sword and shifting his stance. Natasha glances to the left and sees Loki, on his feet, hands clasped behind his back, watching her with an intense expression. This is probably the most action he's seen in a long while, and he's relishing in it, having discarded his book and getting up from his chaise longue in order to get a better view. She had no idea Asgardian prisoners were treated so well.

"I want you to open that cell," Natasha says slowly, gesturing towards Loki, whose lips twist into a smirk.

"Never," the guard says, unable to keep the tremor in his voice at bay. Natasha shrugs nonchalantly and flicks the switch on her gloves again, the guards eyes flicking down to look at them apprehensively as the high pitched whir of them charging up breaks the silence.

"We can do this the easy way," Natasha tells him. "Or we can do it the _hard way_."

"I'd listen to her if I were you, Jonah," Loki says casually. "She's more dangerous than I am, and you know how difficult it is for me to admit that."

Jonah shakes his head. "_No_. I am loyal to the king. I will _not_ release the prisoner, no matter what you do to me."

"Everyone has their breaking point," Natasha tells him, flexing her fingers. "You might not think so, but you do."

"The Frost Giants killed my brother when _he_ let them into the palace," Jonah continues, jabbing his elbow towards Loki, his lower lip trembling. "I will _never_ release him from this cell."

"Jonah…" Natasha says softly, taking a step forward. To his credit, he stands his ground, his sword held aloft, despite the fear that is so obviously coursing through him. "You really think I'm here because I want to take him to the park and get ice cream?"

Jonah's expression falters at this, his sword lowering ever so slightly.

"I'm one of the _good guys_," Natasha tells him. "I'm part of the reason he's _in here_. He killed one of my _friends_." She lets out a heavy sigh. Nobody needs to know that Coulson is alive and well - the point still stands. "And doesn't it _sicken you_, that he's killed so many people, that he's done the things he has, and he gets to lounge around all day, reading books and eating fruit like he's still the precious little prince he used to be? Don't you wish he actually had to face some consequences?"

"Hang on a second," Loki says, stepping away from the glass, his face transitioning seamlessly into a wary expression. "Jonah, whatever you do, don't open the cell. Don't do anything she asks. Remember your vow to my father - "

"I remember the corpse of my brother," Jonah says quietly. "Solid ice, because of _you_." He spits the last word, turning a tearful glare in Loki's direction. "He was my _best friend_."

Loki shakes his head, his upper lip curling. "Brothers aren't all that," he says. "You can have mine if you like."

"Your brother is _good_, and _noble_," Jonah continues. "And you…you're as rotten as they come. And she's right, you're not being _punished_." Jonah sheaths his sword, then turns back to Natasha. "You promise that you will punish him? Properly?"

"Oh yeah," Natasha says, not breaking eye contact. "He'll be punished all right."

Jonah nods, then walks up the steps to Loki's cell, opening the control panel next to it then punching in a long password. The glass front of Loki's cell flickers and disappears, and he steps over the threshold, Jonah eyeing him nervously. Wordlessly, Natasha climbs the steps, then jams her hands through the gap between Jonah's helmet and his armour. Loki nods approvingly as the current crackles through Jonah's body, until, eventually, he falls to the ground, unconscious.

"Ruthless…" Loki murmurs.

"He's got plausible deniability," Natasha counters, examining the control panel and hitting a few keys in order to close the cell. "Can you do that double thing? So nobody knows that you're gone?"

"My mother will be able to tell." It's Loki's voice that sounds, but his lips do not move. Natasha turns towards the cell to see an identical Loki, watching her from behind the glass, before he saunters away, back to his chaise longue, and collapses down onto it.

"You try to escape," Natasha says, turning back to the real Loki and raising her hand, her index finger pointing at his chest. "I'll kill you. You try to hurt me, and I'll kill you. You do anything that I consider to be an _asshole move - _"

"And you'll kill me," Loki says boredly. "I get it."

"Good," Natasha says, looking him up and down and wondering what the hell she's gotten herself into. She'd never imagined she'd actually get as far as this, had thought that somewhere along the way, she'd be stopped, either by Thor, or guards or even Odin himself. But here she is, having just broken a murderous maniac out of prison on another _planet_, and now all she has to do is smuggle him back to Earth, which should be easy, right?

There is a blur of green light, and, standing in Loki's place is a perfect replica of Thor, the only thing missing being the cheerful twinkle in his eyes. It is, however, more than convincing enough to get them past the guards, and, hopefully as far as the bifrost.

"Ready?" Natasha asks. Loki doesn't say anything, but offers her his arm - a gesture she would have considered to be beyond him. But, she supposes, if he's pretending to be Thor, then he must force himself through all the pleasantries as well, and so, arm in arm, they depart, climbing the stone steps up to the main palace.

"By the way," Natasha says, as they walk along the corridors. "I told one of the guards I was here on a diplomatic mission."

Loki raises one blond eyebrow, the expression quite out of place on Thor's features. "How civilised," he replies.

"And I might have convinced one of them that I was the future queen of Earth."

At this, Loki sniggers. "And he believed you?"

"I'll have you know, I do entitled royalty quite well," Natasha replies stiffly, then, her lips curving into a smile, adds: "I used you for inspiration."

Loki lets out a soft chuckle, and as they round the corner, they cross the path of a pair of guards, patrolling the corridors. The guards swoop into deep bows, and Loki nods his head politely in their direction before they continue on, towards the main doors of the palace. It's not long before they find another, larger group of guards, their swords in their hands, shields raised defensively. At the front of the group is the guard Natasha met on her way down to the dungeons, and upon seeing her, arm in arm with what appears to be Thor, his face falls, and he lowers his sword.

"Where's the party?" Loki asks, forcing a sense of joviality into his tone. "Why are there so many of you?"

"We…" the guard begins slowly, his eyes fixed on Natasha. "I…didn't realise we were hosting Midgardians."

"Well it was discussed at the council meeting but…of course," Loki says, plastering a winning smile on his face. "You aren't present at the council meetings."

"I considered the lady's presence to be suspicious, so early in the morning," the guard adds, shifting his feet nervously, glancing up to make eye contact with Loki only very briefly.

Loki frowns. "Your impertinence knows no bounds," he says. "This is Princess Natalia of Midgard, and you would _dare_ suspect her of wrongdoing?"

"I…"

"He laughed at my outfit too," Natasha adds, ignoring the use of her original name. Apparently he's held on to all the tidbits of information Clint blessed him with on his last visit to Earth. At her words, Loki turns back to the guards, his expression almost comically aghast.

"Were you raised in a _barn_?" he demands. "Who taught you that it was ever appropriate to laugh at a lady's clothing?"

"I am unused to the Midgardian styles, my liege. I _did_ apologiseto the lady."

"The _princess_," Loki corrects, before he turns to Natasha. "Natalia I am so incredibly sorry that you have had to suffer through such idiocy. Believe me when I say that not _all_ of our guards are so rude."

"I'm sure," Natasha replies with a polite smile.

"Get back to your stations," Loki growls at the guards, his charming air vanishing in an instant. "Or you'll all be sent to aid the stable boys."

His threat is enough to cause the guards to scatter, and they hurry off in pairs, casting anxious looks over their shoulders to ensure that Loki's attention is not focused solely on themselves. After a moment, when the corridor is quiet once more, they start walking again, Loki not even bothering to try and hide his amusement at the situation.

"I nearly told them you were dressed to kill," he murmurs after a little while. "But given that there are two unconscious guards in the dungeons, I thought that perhaps the joke could wait."

Natasha rolls her eyes. "I've been told it's a knockout look," she adds, unlinking her arm from Loki's when they reach the doors and watching as he pushes them open. He glances down at the two unconscious guards on the steps, the shiny taser disks laying innocently nearby, and he grins.

"Perfect timing," he says, offering his arm again.

Natasha smirks, placing her arm in his and descending the steps with him, heading out towards the bridge. There's one last hurdle to get over, and that's the journey back to earth. There's no way around it, no chance of her hitching a ride on another bifrost, this is their only option. And, if they _do_ make it out of Asgard, then she has to keep Loki in check, she has to be certain that he won't make Clint's situation even worse than it already is.

"How do I even know that you'll help him?" she asks, staring ahead at the golden dome in the distance, which grows larger and larger with every purposeful step that they take.

Loki shrugs. "I meant what I said. You _are_ more dangerous than me."

"You're _scared_ of me?" she asks in disbelief.

"Not really," Loki continues. "In the grand scheme of things there are far scarier people in the universe. People who would want nothing more than for me to die a slow and painful death. People who have the skills and resources to make that happen, should they ever get a hold of me."

Natasha doesn't say anything, far too concerned with the notion that she might be endangering not only herself, but the entire planet if she takes Loki back to Earth. Will they be considered enemies by association by his foes? Will they be subject to the same punishment as Loki? Or is that a spot reserved exclusively for him and him alone?

"You are," Loki continues with a heavy sigh, "a good person, unlike those who wish to see me dead. Good people do not compromise, not when it matters. There is no convincing a good person. They do not give you the opportunity."

"I'm not a good person," Natasha breathes. She would be amused by his observations if they didn't sting so much. She hasn't thought about this for an awfully long time, preferring to lock it up in a box at the back of her mind, but here Loki is, parading about with the key and setting it all free again.

"You don't have to be as noble as your dear Captain in order to be a good person," Loki tells her. "You will make the call that precious angels, like your Captain, like my brother, will never be able to make. So yes, I _will_ endeavour to help Agent Barton, because I know you well enough to want to avoid being the subject of such a call."

She still doesn't trust him, but at least he knows that if he does any damage to Clint, she'll do far greater damage to him in turn, and that punishment she spoke of to Jonah will become a reality. When they reach the golden dome, Heimdall is standing guard at the top of the dais. He slots his heavy sword into the top of a short stone plinth, and the walls of the dome begin to spin.

Heimdall descends the steps towards them, smiling towards Natasha, then, without warning, grabs Loki by the collar of his shirt and pulls him close. "I'll be watching you, Loki," he says in a quiet voice, his amber eyes staring into Loki's blue ones. "And if I think I need to send your brother, and my sister, to come and collect you, then I most certainly will." He releases Loki and lowers his hand, Loki taking a step backwards and smoothing down his clothes. Seeing such an uncharacteristically sulky expression on Thor's features is enough to garner a smile from Natasha, and when Heimdall sends the smallest of winks in her direction, she breaks into a grin.

"Quickly now," Heimdall says. "Before the rest of the palace awakes."

Loki grabs Natasha by the forearm and drags her to the front of the dome. She only manages to get one last glimpse of Heimdall before she is swept away, Loki's grip on her firm as they speed across the universe, hurtling towards the earth.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Part two is here for you lovelies. Hope you enjoy it - let me know what you think!

* * *

**Grasping at the Short Straw**

**by Flaignhan**

* * *

Her feet slam into the ground and she drops to her knees, her chest heaving as she tries to drag some oxygen into her lungs. Loki pulls her to her feet, and she closes her hand around his wrist, determined to not give him any opportunity to make a run for it. These crowded city streets offer up any number of potential escape routes, and even with Heimdall watching, she doesn't want to have to deal with that. Not today.

"Come on," she says, hauling him along the sidewalk, leading him away from the shocked crowds, past dozens of stores and towards SHIELD HQ. When she next looks across at him, she sees his disguise has disappeared, and he is once again himself, his dark hair swept back, his sharp features set in a haughty expression, and his pale skin in very real danger of being burned by the morning sun, beating down on them from above.

When they enter the building through the glass doors, it doesn't take long for people to recognise Loki. They stand there, mouths agape, as Natasha leads him past the security desk, giving a cold stare to the officer who has the audacity to stand up, the guest sign-in paperwork held in his hands. Loki smirks as they wait for the elevator, his hands clasped in front of him while Natasha keeps a firm grip on his upper arm. She's certain that if he dares to make a run for it, he'll be shot before he can reach the door, but even so, she wants to make it clear that he's with her, and she's in charge. The last thing she needs is some jumped up little level six asshole barging in and assuming he's a hero by taking out a known threat. It's only happened once, and the consequences for the agent in question were severe enough for it to not have been repeated.

The doors open with a quiet _ding_ and Natasha steps inside, pulling Loki with her. She hits the button for the top floor, figuring that she's going to need to get the final all clear from Fury before she can take Loki down to Clint's holding cell. She chews on the inside of her lower lip, knowing that when she had given him her last update, she had told him that there was absolutely no way that Loki was going to be coming to Earth. And now, here she is, in SHIELD HQ, with a murderous demigod by her side.

"What the _hell _have you done?"

She hears the words before the doors even finish opening, and assumes that somebody on the ground floor has made a call to Fury.

"It's Barton's only chance," she says with a shrug, stepping out of the elevator and pulling Loki along with her. Fury fixes Loki with a cold glare before turning his gaze back onto Natasha.

"I thought you said Odin had _forbidden _it? I thought Thor had said that there was no _way_." Fury paces in front of his window, shaking his head, only looking up every now and then to throw a venomous look in Loki's direction.

"Thor doesn't know," Natasha replies, bracing herself for the tornado of disbelief and anger that is about to engulf her. "Nor does Odin."

Fury freezes, his mouth ajar as he stares at her, brow crinkled as though he is seeing her in all her glory for the first time. "Are you telling me that you _broke him out_?"

"_I_ didn't break him out. I just convinced a guard to open the cell."

Fury stares at her in disbelief. "You're telling me that you kidnapped a _god_ and brought him here, but it's okay because you threatened some dumb ass guard until he did what you wanted? Did it ever cross your mind that he might consider this a perfect opportunity to wreak havoc across our world?"

"He won't," Natasha says confidently. "He's being watched."

"Have you lost your _mind_?" Fury asks, his expression dumbstruck. "Has he switched you out for an idiot? Because all I'm hearing is idiot speak. Where the _hell_ is Natasha Romanov?"

Natasha rolls her eyes. "He's being watched by Heimdall. He's the gatekeeper of Asgard. He sees _everything_. If Loki acts out, he'll alert Thor."

"Well you know what I'm seeing?" Fury asks, eyebrows raised, one hand resting on his hip, inches away from the butt of his pistol. "I'm seeing a disaster waiting to happen."

"Surely only _half_ a disaster," Loki says, before Natasha has the chance to reply. He raises one hand to cover his left eye. "Perhaps you would feel better about things if you could see the situation with a little perspective…or some depth perception."

Natasha presses her lips tightly together and turns away from the pair of them, folding her arms across her stomach and focusing instead on the framed prints on the wall. She wants to laugh, and she hates the fact that Loki is the cause of it, but apart from that, she knows that if she dares even let out a tiny snigger, she'll be in Fury's bad books for weeks, will undoubtedly be assigned as some snot nosed level one recruit's S.O., and will have to face the consequences for months, if not years to come.

Fury crosses the office, only stopping when he is toe to toe with Loki, and Natasha swallows down her amusement and braces herself, ready to break up any scuffle that might occur.

"You really think you're in a good place to be making wisecracks?" Fury asks, his voice low and dangerous. "The boy who was defeated by our team still thinks he has something to smile about? Even though he's turned up here in his god damn _pyjamas_?"

Natasha glances down at the floor, her lips skewing to one side when she realises that Loki is wearing slippers. She hadn't thought much about his loose fitting clothes, because for the most part he had been disguised as Thor, but now it's painfully obvious that she hauled him from his bed in the early hours to come to Earth, even if he had been wide awake and alert upon her break in.

"It's a very relaxing life up on Asgard," Loki tells him coolly. "No need for formal attire."

Fury narrows his eyes. "And why should I let you anywhere near Agent Barton? Last time you - "

"It is _because_ of last time that I am considered an expert," Loki reminds him. "And Agent Romanov has provided a decent amount of motivation for me to repair Barton's mind."

At this, Fury looks across to Natasha with a questioning gaze.

"If he doesn't fix him, I'll cut his throat."

Fury nods, and steps away from Loki, though Natasha knows that this isn't even remotely over. There'll be hell to pay after the event, even if Loki _does_ manage to fix Clint, but it'll be worth it, if she gets Clint back. She owes him that much.

"Get him out of my sight," Fury tells her. "And if this goes to hell, on _your head_ be it."

"Gotcha," Natasha says, steering Loki back towards the elevators before he has the chance to make another sarcastic quip that might just tempt Fury in to loading his pistol. After all, she's pretty sure Asgard will want Loki back _alive_.

* * *

Clint is pacing around his cell, his body burning with excess energy that he is desperate to shake off. His brow is set in a deep scowl, his eyes narrowed, and he's been given a set of pale blue scrubs to wear, his normal clothes considered far too convenient for hiding weapons. His eyes are bright, just like they were when Loki had control of his mind, but he's more feral, more jerky, and his danger comes not in the threat that he is as every bit talented in combat as normal, but in the fact that he is unpredictable, savage, and willing to tear his opponents limb from limb, quite literally, should the occasion call for it.

"D'you need him sedated?" Natasha asks, her eyes following Clint's progress around the cell.

Loki shakes his head. "His mind needs to be active. That way I can understand the control better. It looks fractured at best so I might even be able to find the culprit."

"You think you can trace them?" Natasha asks, her interest piquing.

"Maybe," Loki says with a shrug. "There's always a connection back to the source," he continues. "There has to be or else you can't control what's happening. When you take over someone's mind, you have to put a part of yourself in them, otherwise you won't be able to steer them in the right direction. I've got part of my mind in Asgard right now. I can see everything that's going on in the dungeons…I'm still reading my book."

Natasha frowns, uncertain as to whether he's winding her up or not. "Really?"

"Yes," he replies, frowning as he watches Clint through the glass, his hands clasped behind his back. "It's incredibly difficult initially, but then you learn to compartmentalise. My ability to create projections of myself meant that by the time I came around to mind control I was fairly well practiced. The person in charge of Agent Barton is, I believe, struggling to multitask. You can see their frustration, it's why he's so on edge." He points to Clint, whose fists are clenched at his sides as he paces across the room, turning swiftly when he reaches the far end and marching back, his shoulders hunched, his expression furious.

"But you can definitely get him back, right?"

"Should be able to," Loki says with a shrug, turning to look at Natasha. "D'you know how he came to be like this?"

Natasha shakes her head. "He checked in over the phone after a mission, everything was fine, then he went AWOL for a few days, and when he came back he was…" she gestures towards him just as he kicks out at the legs of his bed, and Loki nods in understanding. Before Natasha can stop him, he unlocks the door to Clint's cell and walks inside, no protection, no weapons, no nothing. Natasha hurries in after him, shutting the door behind her, her eyes fixed on Clint as he gives Loki the once over.

"Who are you?" he asks darkly.

"You know me, Agent Barton," Loki replies calmly. "You know me very well. The real question is, who's pulling your strings this time?"

Clint growls and starts towards Loki, but Loki stands his ground, either unwilling to be intimidated or underestimating the amount of pain Clint can inflict upon him.

"I'm Loki," he says when Clint doesn't offer an answer. "Of Asgard."

"The boy who couldn't invade Manhattan with an entire army at his disposal?" Clint spits.

"The very same." If Clint's words sting, Loki doesn't show it. In fact, he doesn't seem at all bothered by the taunt. "Now who are you? Your skills are rudimentary at best."

"You think?" Clint demands, taking another step towards Loki, his eyes wide, his mouth set in an aggressive snarl.

"Listen to me, Barton," Loki says, capturing Clint's wrists in one hand before he can lash out, while his free hand lays itself flat against Clint's left temple. "Your beloved Agent Romanov is going to kill me if I don't fix this. It's not me you need to fight, it's the amateur."

"I'm no _amateur_," Clint hisses. "If _I _had had an army at my disposal - " Clint stops mid-sentence, and his shoulders slump, his arms going limp. There is a faint glow of blue light around the two of them, and Clint's eyes slide in and out of focus a few times, his face twitching strangely, flickers of emotions flitting across his face. Loki's eyes are squeezed tightly shut, his grip on Clint's wrists so tight that his knuckles are bulging under the skin, and after a few minutes of silent mental battle, Natasha spots a bead of sweat break out on his forehead.

"Shut _up_ I'm busy!" The shout comes without warning, shock jolting through Natasha, and Loki grits his teeth.

"I didn't say anything!" she protests.

"Not _you_, Romanov," Loki replies impatiently. "My idiot _brother_."

Natasha frowns, but before she can ask any further questions, Loki is speaking again.

"Of _course_ she's here," Loki huffs in exasperation. "And you _are_ an idiot."

"Bickering with the golden child?" Clint asks slyly, his eyes refocusing for a moment.

"Everybody _shut up!_" Loki bellows, stamping his foot on the concrete floor of the cell. "Barton! Concentrate!"

Apparently Clint can hear him, because his eyes roll back in his head, and, after a few seconds, he falls to the floor, coughing and spluttering, while Loki digs the heels of his palms into his eyes, his feet shifting around as he tries to maintain his balance.

"Where do you want her to go?" he asks through gritted teeth.

Natasha blinks, then steps forward, tearing her eyes away from Clint and looking up to Loki. "I dunno," she says. "Where is she?"

"I don't _know_," Loki growls impatiently. "I don't have _map_."

"Well get her to go to the nearest police station and hand herself in," Natasha says, thinking quickly. "We'll have someone go pick her up."

Clint is watching Loki from the floor, his eyes clouded with confusion. Natasha crouches down next to him, placing her hand on his shoulder, and he starts, turning to look at her and letting out a soft sigh when he sees that it's her.

"Tash, what's - ?"

"In a minute," Natasha says, holding up a finger, her eyes on Loki once more. Evidently, breaking the connection with Clint's mind and tracing it back was a lot more difficult than anticipated, and even though he appears to have control over their culprit, he's still struggling. Perhaps his time in prison has diminished his powers, or maybe now the tesseract is locked up, far from his reach, he doesn't have the same intensity that he used to possess. Part of her wonders if she should just tell him to let it go, that they can track this woman down in their own time, that he shouldn't put himself at risk, because he's gotten Clint back for them and that's all Natasha ever wanted. But then he lets out a long, slow breath, his body relaxing, and opens his eyes.

"Done?" Natasha asks.

Loki nods, then raises a hand to rub his face tiredly. He's swaying on the spot, and she's not certain that he realises it, so she stands up, and guides him towards Clint's bunk, pushing him down gently onto the mattress. It doesn't take much effort, his knees giving way as soon as the back of his legs make contact with the bed frame, and he rests his head in his hands, his fingers tangling in his hair.

"Who was she?" Natasha asks, moving over to the cabinet to pour a glass of water. She turns back to Clint, in case he's managed to retain any information about her, but he shrugs his shoulders, his gaze never leaving Loki.

"A shape shifter," Loki tells her, looking up when she presses the glass into his hand. He takes a sip then pauses before continuing. "I assume she's stranded. She's not of Midgard. She'll be docile for your people when they go to collect her." A dark expression falls across his face, his eyebrows twitching into a frown. He takes another sip of water, and Natasha watches him curiously, waiting for him to say something. He lets out a huff and rolls his eyes a couple of times before he speaks again, but Natasha thinks she can put two and two together.

"Thor knows I'm gone," he says at last. "He came storming into the dungeons demanding answers when I was in the middle of releasing Agent Barton."

"Is he mad?" Natasha asks tentatively.

"Thor doesn't know he's here?" Clint asks, pushing himself up off the floor and getting to his feet. He wipes the palms of his hands on his shirt, and approaches, still eyeing Loki with a great deal of caution.

"Your Agent Romanov broke me out," Loki tells him with a grin, then says with a great deal of satisfaction: "My father will be _furious_."

"Is Thor coming to get you?" Natasha asks, but Loki shakes his head.

"He knows you will return me, now that the deed is done."

"And what benefit do you get from this, exactly?" Clint asks, his arms folded across his chest. "Why would you help?"

Loki shrugs. "It's a day out of my cell. And, obvious motivations as well." He gestures towards Natasha's thigh and the row of knives secured against it. "I do have one request, however," he continues, looking up at Natasha, a hint of a smile playing at his lips.

"Oh yeah?" Natasha asks. "What's that?" Considering that Clint's back, and seems to have suffered no lasting effects from his ordeal, she might just relent and grant him his request. Maybe.

"What is ice cream?" he asks, before draining the last of his water and setting the glass down on the bedside cabinet.

"Sorry?"

"Ice cream," he repeats. "You mentioned ice cream to Jonah. If it's good, I'd like to have some."

Natasha looks across to Clint, who meets her disbelieving gaze with one of his own, then she turns back to Loki and lets out a sigh.

* * *

"Well?" she asks, twiddling her cornet in her fingers in search of any drips of ice cream. When she sees one, she quickly licks it away before it has a chance to reach her hand. She looks across to Loki, sitting next to her on the bench, opposite the ice cream stand. He's frowning down at his own cone, which has a thick, round scoop of vanilla wedged into the top, and is drizzled with chocolate sauce.

"It's unusual," he says slowly. "We don't have food this cold on Asgard."

She is half tempted to suggest that cold food might suit a frost giant, but she refrains, Thor having made quite clear how sensitive Loki is on the subject. After they've come this far, after she's managed to smuggle him away from the other side of the universe, after she's convinced him to help them and he's actually come through and done so, it would be stupid to risk a city destroying temper tantrum over a quip that is, if she's honest, below the belt. She keeps a close eye on him, even though she's ninety-nine percent certain that he's not going to make a run for it, there's always the chance that he'll think that he's lulled her into complacency.

"Do you like it?" she asks, before capturing another rogue drip from her maple and pecan scoop.

Loki shrugs. "I'd eat it again."

Natasha smirks, knowing that his words translate as a begrudging _yes_. Heaven forbid he should ever enjoy anything on Earth, least of all something they don't have on the super advanced Asgard. As she watches the passersby, she notices that they're attracting a few funny looks, potentially because of Loki's unusual dress, or maybe because some of them recognise him from the news footage after the Chitauri invasion. His muzzled face had glowed on TV screens for weeks after the event, his name printed in big bold letters on newspaper pages. He had been, for a very short time, the most famous person _not_ on the planet.

Natasha's phone vibrates, and she fishes it out of her pocket, frowning down at the screen as she reads the text message from Fury.

_Barton's attacker in custody. Will brief you when you get back._

She can feel Loki's eyes on her, and when she looks up, she sees him peering across at the message, while simultaneously feigning interest in his ice cream. She quirks her eyebrow and he lets out a sigh, his shoulders slumping as he leans back against the bench.

"Well it's so _boring_ up there," he says. "I just wanted to know if there was anything interesting going on _here_."

"Why does that matter?" Natasha asks. Her lips are numb from the chill of the ice cream, but she perseveres, enjoying the flavour far too much to be deterred by such a thing.

"I don't know," Loki says noncommittally, then adds: "Maybe you could break me out again. If you needed to." He stares straight ahead as he speaks, and she knows that he doesn't want to admit that he's benefitted from this outing. He's been locked up ever since the invasion though, and she doesn't suppose he ever gets to see daylight (at least that's what his chalky white skin suggests). It's quite right too, after everything he did, but even so, just this once, she doesn't mind sitting in the peace and quiet, eating ice cream with him. One last small pleasure, a reward for a good deed done well, before she sends him back to the Asgardian dungeons.

"If we need your services again," she says, also staring ahead. She's not sure why they can't handle speaking to each other in this instance; perhaps she doesn't want to make any promises, and perhaps he doesn't want to raise his own hopes with no real chance of a positive outcome. "Then I might consider busting you out."

From the corner of her eye, she sees his mouth curve into a smirk.

"But I'm not sure how Thor's gonna feel about that," she adds. "Or your dad."

The smirk disappears in an instant. "He's _not_ my - "

"Whatever," Natasha interrupts. "He makes the rules."

"And _you_ break them," Loki replies, his irritation dissipating quickly. "He could have you executed. He could have you thrown in a cell next to mine."

"And wouldn't you just _love that_?" Natasha says dryly, casting a sideways glance in his direction. "Wouldn't you love for me to be locked up, paying the same price as you?"

"I daresay the conversation would be of a higher calibre than I'm graced with at the moment."

"Thanks," Natasha says slowly, allowing a brief smile to grace her face. "I think."

They finish their ice creams in silence, and when Natasha has finished chewing the last piece of her sugar cone, and Loki has brushed the crumbs from his lap, she glances up at the sky. She doesn't get the opportunity to ask whether Loki would prefer to call Heimdall himself, because the clouds swirl, and moments later, she is pulled into the sky, the wind streaming through her hair. In the blinding light, she manages to find Loki's arm, and keeps a firm hold on it, partly so he can't make any sneaky exits, but also because he's far more used to this than she is, and if she holds onto him, she might have a better chance of arriving on her feet, rather than her knees.

She squints, trying to see through the passage of light and beyond, out into the reaches of space, but there's nothing. All sorts of questions fly through her head, now that she's experienced it enough times to not be stunned into mental silence during transportation. Before she can give any of them serious thought (though she does manage to inhale, which answers the oxygen question, albeit not as thoroughly as she'd like) her feet slam into the ground, her grip on Loki tightening instinctively. He's as steady as a rock, and as such, Natasha manages to beat the odds and stay standing, her arm linked with his.

"Good afternoon, your highness," says a familiar voice.

"There's no need to greet me like that, brother," Loki says coolly, disentangling himself from Natasha.

"I wasn't talking to you," Thor says darkly, his blue gaze fixed on Natasha. "I was talking to the Queen of Midgard."

"Future queen," Natasha corrects, eyeing Thor warily. He's far from happy, that much is obvious. "I'm just a lousy princess at the moment."

The corner of Thor's mouth twitches, but he doesn't smile. "Agent Barton is well?" he asks.

"Yeah," Natasha replies, guilt twisting its way up her spine as he questions her. "And we've got the person responsible."

"Well that's something," Thor says gruffly. "My father is currently _unaware_ of the situation, and I believe it is going to remain that way. My mother has sworn not to tell him at any rate."

"Mother knows?" Loki's dark eyebrows are knitted together in a frown, his teeth chewing on the inside of his lower lip.

"Of course she knows," Heimdall says, his deep voice reverberating throughout the dome. "She came to me moments after you left. She sensed your magic, and your departure."

"And she didn't tell you to bring me back?" Loki asks suspiciously.

"She wanted to see what would happen," Heimdall informs him briskly. "And said she was sure that any mortal who could break into Asgard and smuggle you out would be more than capable of keeping you in check for a few hours."

Natasha can't fight the smile that forms on her lips, and instead chooses to look at the ground, knowing full well that she has probably caused one hell of a shitstorm for Thor today. It's probably for the best if she doesn't show too many signs of amusement, and after a moment, she schools her expression into her normal blank canvas, her hands clasped behind her back, and meets his eye again.

"I'm sorry if I caused you a problem," she tells him, her apology uncommonly sincere, for her. "But Barton's my best friend."

"I understand," Thor says, taking a few steps closer and reaching out to place his hands on her upper arms. "But next time, _tell me_."

"Next time?" Loki asks, looking between Thor and Natasha, unable to disguise the hint of hope in his tone. Thor ignores him.

"Next time," Natasha says, nodding slowly. "I'll tell you."

"Good," Thor replies, releasing her. "I'll help you plan it." He turns to Loki now, his face taking on a more serious expression. "Back to the dungeons now," he says firmly. "You'd better transform."

With a blur of green light, Loki disappears, and standing in his place is a tall, beautiful woman with long dark hair, dressed in battle armour. "How's this?" Loki asks, though his voice is nothing like his own.

"We'll have to avoid the sparring yard," Thor says, taking Loki by the shoulders and steering him towards the exit. "Two Sifs in one place might raise a few questions." He turns, raising a hand in farewell to Natasha, and she returns the gesture. Loki also twists around, and even though he is looking at her with brown eyes instead of green, she can still see something of him flitting around, perhaps in his expression, or maybe in the mischievous glint in his eye.

"Come again soon," he calls over his shoulder. "You know where to find me."

Thor gives him a shove and Loki stumbles out onto the bridge, throwing a filthy look at his brother.

"Home?" Heimdall asks, as the walls of the dome begin to rotate.

"Please," Natasha says, her eyes fixed on Thor and Loki, the former having taken his brother's shoulder in a firm grip.

As the light engulfs her, and she is ripped once more from the spot where she stands, Natasha is certain she manages to catch a snippet of conversation before she plummets back towards Earth. When she lands, dizzy, her legs feeling like jelly, but, like a bifrost pro, still standing, the words burn brightly in her head, in Thor's warm tones, filling her with a pleasant sensation that she doesn't often get in this job.

_I'm proud of you today, brother. _

Ignoring the shocked expressions of those around her, Natasha runs a hand through her hair, then starts the short walk back to HQ, her mind wandering to what other uses Loki might possibly have. She'd always considered Thor to be quite the goody two shoes, which only serves to make the prospect of another prison break, this time a joint effort, all the more tantalising.

* * *

**The End**


End file.
